Reminiscent of Alice Margatroid
by inuyasha's lullaby - farewell
Summary: There is a reason why my dolls look so…realistic. Beautiful. Frightened. Dead. – Crazed!Dark Pit. Gift!fic for Paradigm of Writing.


Mind you, I don't actually play with the dolls, stupid.

…Well, maybe sometimes, but that is not the point! I like to collect them; it's a guilty pleasure of mine. Something I like to do in my spare time: a hobby, if you will. It's like Peach and her gardening, or Pit-stain and his stupid food eating contests. It's something I enjoy. I enjoy making them, too, especially of my fellow idiotic Smashers. Everyone from that elf boy Link to that scary woman Samus to that damn marshmallow Kirby. _Every single one_. Using all different kinds of materials, I try to bring out the most complete concept of beauty. Every detail has to be right; I'll be damned if one fatal mistake ruins my meticulous work.

_I want nothing more than pure and unadulterated perfection._

_I need it…_

…_and I want more of it._

As I look upon my collection of dolls as of late, I noticed something's a little…off. That bothers me. I thought everything was perfect, ya know? But they weren't: they just _weren't_. As I inspected my work, I'd realized the despicable minute details that flawed my creations. The golden, jeweled crown of Peach's doll was slightly crooked, and her hair was a slightly darker shade than what it should normally be. Rosalina's eyes weren't nearly as expressive as they normally are. Shulk's facial features looked a bit too masculine, making him look like some teenaged Falcon or Snake. Being compared to Falcon or Snake is not a compliment. Nothing is what I thought it would be. These dolls are an eye-sore – simply comparable to a failed experiment. Damn, I feel like a bigger disappointment than Pit-stain's existence.

I need to try something new. Make something valuable, something of worth, something that gives me _meaning _again. As I look upon my collection as of late, an idea popped into my head. An idea that is pure and flawless. It requires extensive assistance, but I'm sure they won't mind helping. There's no harm in gaining a little bit of help to remove those pesky little blemishes.

_**After all, I want nothing more than pure and unadulterated perfection.**_

* * *

Down the stairs into the basement they walked, side by side, inseparable as freakin' always. Ever since Lucina met her precious Hero-King, they have spent damn near every minute of their time together. Marth let Lucina follow him around like a puppy followed its master, and he seemed to relish every moment of it. I've often wondered if they were hiding something more than a simply platonic relationship, but I never gave too much thought to it. Besides, they can stay by each other's sides for as long as they want. I'll make sure of that.

"Hi there, Dark Pit," Marth said, smiling pleasantly. Lucina greeted me as well, giving me a small wave and a friendly grin.

"'Sup you two," I responded, giving them the usual nonchalant tone. I asked Marth to shut the door, smiling as completed the order, both of them not realizing that they were now locked in. It's not like they'll be leaving anytime soon or whatever.

"Thanks," I said. "So I guess you two are wondering why you're here?"

Marth nodded. "You said you needed help on a project?"

"Exactly, Blueberry Boy." Marth rolled her eyes, remarking how that was the nickname of his doll. I smiled, silently noting that the doll in reference is no longer worthy of that name.

"So, what exactly do we need to do, Pittoo?" Lucina asked.

"Patience, Lucy," I said. "Close your eyes, both of you."

"Ah, trying to surprise us?" Marth inquired, both he and Lucina closing their eyes.

"I don't like surprises, Dark Pit," Lucina warned.

"It's a nice surprise. Honest," I assured her. I walked past them, making sure their eyes continued to stay shut. I pick up a statuette of the mischievous goddess Palutena and examine it before turning around to see my two experimental bluenettes waiting patiently, eyes still shut, blissfully unaware of the events that will transpire.

I appear behind Lucina, for the ladies always go first, – a true gentleman knows that – raise the statue high above her head, and bring down sharply upon the back of her skull. She produced a sharp yelp, and blood immediately stains her midnight blue hair and the statuette. Damnit, now I have to clean everything once I'm doing.

Oh well, I guess a task like this was bound to be messy.

The princess drops to floor, not graceful or anything – just drops like a heavy bag of rocks. I turned to face Marth who, at the same time, opens his eyes. I see the fear immediately plaster on his face as his eyes quickly move between looking at me and Lucina.

"Dark Pit, what the _hell _– !"

Swinging the statuette violently, I rudely interrupt him. Eyes darkening, he produces the same blood-curdling scream as Lucina, albeit a bit deeper in pitch, and, unlike the princess, he falls gracefully: softly to the ground like a feather.

I look down upon them; I didn't intend for it to be so messy. I hate cleaning up things, ya know. But I smile, knowing that the ever-so willing Hero-King and his exalted princess will be the first subjects in my quest to create the perfect dolls. Let's hope they succeed: I don't have that many subjects at my disposal, and I don't like to waste perfectly good items.

* * *

His breathing was shallow, but he was conscious. I twirled the knife around in my hand, waiting for Marth to wake and adjust to his surroundings. It was quite hilarious to see the panicked look on his face when he noticed his young and amazingly beautiful princess lying in a pool of her own blood. His mouth opened as he stared into her darkened eyes, as if he was trying to scream, but he simply could not find his voice. The bluenette didn't even bother to move, remain stationary like the good little doll he was destined to be.

He looked around frantically around the basement, panting heavily until his eyes slowly fell upon me. I smiled and greeted him.

"'Sup."

"_What the hell have you done to us?!_" he screeched. _"What kind of sick game is this?!"_The anger in his eyes and voice made me want to laugh. Why, who the hell has ever heard of an angry doll?

"It's not a game, Marth. If it was, then that means Lucina has already lost."

Marth's gaze fell upon Lucina. "Oh Gods…Lucina…_Lucina_!"

"I think the blood had gotten into her ears," I informed, placing the knife on the floor. "Or it could be that she's not really breathing, the last time I checked. She actually made things a bit easier that way."

"Is…is Lu-Lucina…?" Marth choked, unable to say that one simple word. It was ironic, seeing as how both he and the lovely Lucina has seen so much of it during their lifetimes, and it was due to this irony that I chuckled.

"On the verge of death?" I finished, still slightly giggling like a certain peachy princess. "Or has she already fallen off that steep cliff? I'm pretty sure that's obvious. Just look at her." I made a motion with my hand to her motionless body. "Dead as a log. I know there's a lot of things wrong right now - the fact that blood is marring her smooth face is really grating on my nerves – but I'll correct them all soon enough. You and Lucina will be as flawless and beautiful as the most cherished of porcelain dolls."

"No…" Marth said, his body trembling and voice shaky. "This…this isn't happening. None of this is happening. Lucina…wake up…Lucina…"

"Your dearest Lucy can't hear you, but you can continue talking. That's a benefit of having dolls: they'll listen to your every word, every sentence, every plea of mercy, but they'll never be judgmental."

"W-what do you mean? Why are you talking about dolls?"

"Because I make and collect dolls, Marth! Why else would I be speaking of them?" I laugh at his foolish questions. "I've the unfortunate pleasure of realizing my work wasn't entirely as perfect as I thought it was. There were flaws, cracks, asymmetry – everything was _wrong_! So now, I must make new dolls – _perfect_ dolls – and you two were the first people to that came to mind in my endeavor to make the perfect dolls."

"Perfect dolls…? What the hell are you going on about?!"

I rolled my eyes. "Damnit Marth, has the blood loss made you this _pathetically _dense? You and Lucina will be the first in my newfound collection of dolls. Yeah, it's such a grand damn honor, right?"

Marth's eyes widened, and I just stared at them, thinking of how joyful it would be to have control of such perfection again. My train of thought was snapped when he began to scream, begging for help, trying his hardest to crawl away, to escape the enticing ideal of flawlessness. I grabbed my knife and waltzed over to him, a casual smile plastered on my face.

"Really, Marth, you go with the cliché pleas of 'Somebody help me!', you and I both knowing that not a single person will help you? What's the point of even resisting? You see that Lucina has already given up. It's totally futile, trying to run away. I'm going to cherish you the most, Marth. I will always cherish you and Lucina over everyone else."

I snatched a handful of Marth's now-wild blue hair and forced him to look at me, at my excited crimson eyes.

"P-p-please, Dark Pit...please let m-me go…I don't want this."

He began crying, and I carefully wiped away them away, frowning mockingly. I was be devastated if I let something as pointless as the overflowing river of human emotions ruin my work before I could fully get started.

Smirking, I pressed the knife against Marth's neck. "Oh, don't cry, little Marthy-Marth. A doll never looks sad."

And before he could let out a strangled cry, I swiftly swiped the knife across his precious skin, letting the splatters of the warm liquid dye my face red.

And then silence walked in.

I grinned. Everything was going so smoothly so far. I turned my head slightly to look at my materials, chuckling slightly. I didn't have time to procrastinate.

I want to be able to see my dolls come to life as soon as possible.

* * *

As I look upon my collection of dolls as of late, I cannot help but revel in their newfound beauty. The old has been rejuvenated, flaws faded away, pure perfection complete. It's all too damn exciting!

Peach, with hair finally being that beauteous sunflower color, her crown being completely symmetrical. Her cheeks are still as freakin' rosy as ever, and she still maintains that cute damsel-in-distress look, that regal upholding of a high status.

Rosalina, keeping those expressive cosmic eyes hers, blue as the vast expanse of the ocean. Her lips the right amount of perkiness, as usual. She, too, continues to hold that admirable sense of regality about her.

Shulk, finally looking like one of the pretty poster boys that Nana would always gush about. His blonde hair is still the wild mess, and his Monado remains on his back, being nothing more than a heroic and admirable decoration.

But what I will forever cherish is the very first dolls in my collection: Marth and Lucina. I keep them sitting next to each other, as they were never seen apart, even when they reached their grand finale of their heroic play. They came out so perfectly and beautifully that every time I see, I just gasp in complete awe. Their eyes and their hair are still the same shade of midnight blue. Their expressions portray a sense of calmness, reminiscent of a noble relinquishing his last breath. Even in the eternal beauty known as death, their skin still has that exuberant glow. Honestly, I love them the most. They are much better than my previous dolls: everyone is. They are all my precious creations, my beloved babies.

Holy Gods, I think I'm going to cry. It's all so _beautiful_.

As I look upon my collection as of late, I noticed that everything's completely _right_.

_**After all, I wanted nothing more than pure and unadulterated perfection.**_

* * *

**I'm kinda on a horror binge, so yeah. Feels good to write creepy things. Especially this, as I mixed horror elements with Dark Pit's usual attitude of being a smartass. All in all, I like what I've done. **

**Anyhow, this little creepy story is dedicated to Paradigm of Writing, a writer who posted an oneshot for me called **_**Memories Anonymous**_** on the 4****th****. Not expecting such a kind thing, I've written one in return. So, here it is, Mr. Paradigm: a horror-filled oneshot that I can only hope you enjoyed. Thank you for being such an amazing writer, and always continue with your endeavors!**

**Fun Fact: The title is a reference to Alice Margatroid, the magician youkai who has the ability to manipulate dolls, dolls that she has made herself. She also happens to be one of my favorite Touhou Project characters. The fandom sometimes portrays her as the creepy, lonely girl who only has her precious, sentient dolls to keep her company. **


End file.
